


Chocolate Croissants

by reindeerjumper



Category: Bridget Jones's Diary (2001), Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types, Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding
Genre: Early Mornings, F/M, Mark Darcy is smitten, Morning After, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Tumblr Prompt, and Bridget just wants a croissant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9643502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/pseuds/reindeerjumper
Summary: Mark felt a brush of lips against his shoulder blades, mimicking the sensation of a warm breeze gently crossing his skin. He jolted awake, the feeling of such an intimate gesture a far and distant memory. It took him a few seconds to fully realize where he was. He blinked a few times, taking in the turquoise sheets he was currently wrapped in, which were a far cry from his own burgundy sheets or the white hotel sheets he was used to. Early morning sun was leaking in from the window above his head, soaking the bedroom in a golden light and illuminating his own strewn clothes on the floor, which were tangled up in a cardigan he didn't recognize and a pair of tiger striped knickers thatdefinitelyweren't his...





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the tumblr prompt: _And if you're up for it, Mark x Bridget early morning kiss because that's cute as heckie._ I totally agree and couldn't help myself. If you feel like flailing with me, head over to [tumblr](http://hisreindeerjumper.tumblr.com) and say hi!

Mark felt a brush of lips against his shoulder blades, mimicking the sensation of a warm breeze gently crossing his skin. He jolted awake, the feeling of such an intimate gesture a far and distant memory. It took him a few seconds to fully realize where he was. He blinked a few times, taking in the turquoise sheets he was currently wrapped in, which were a far cry from his own burgundy sheets or the white hotel sheets he was used to. Early morning sun was leaking in from the window above his head, soaking the bedroom in a golden light and illuminating his own strewn clothes on the floor, which were tangled up in a cardigan he didn't recognize and a pair of tiger striped knickers that  _ definitely  _ weren't his. 

Shards of the night before started to piece themselves together in his brain as he felt a warm hand creep it's way across his hip and settle on his stomach. Whoever the hand belonged to inched themselves closer to Mark’s back, placing soft, languid kisses against the constellation of freckles and moles that scattered across his skin. Mark was suddenly very aware of his own nakedness under the sheets, especially with the press of another’s sleep warm skin against his. He hadn't felt that for longer than he cared for, and he couldn't stop himself from melting into the softness pressed against him. 

“Bridget,” he murmured in realization, placing his own hand overtop hers that had settled on his stomach. He felt a thrum through his torso as she hummed in acknowledgment. Mark rolled himself over to face her, a smug smile sleepily making its way onto his lips. “Good morning,” he said quietly, his voice gravelly from sleep. 

Bridget looked just as angelic as she had in the snow the night before. Her blonde hair was mussed from Mark’s fingers running through it numerous times, and it framed her face as it lay against her collarbone. Her cheeks were flushed from the warmth in the room, and the smoothness of her skin glowed in the light streaming in from the window. She slowly placed an arm underneath her head to prop herself up and look at him, and as she righted herself, Mark felt himself falling into her gaze. He hadn't realized just how incredible her eyes were until he ran into her buying cigarettes before the Aghani interview. Until that point, he had only really socialized with her at night. While standing in that bodega, though, with sunlight filtering in through the filthy windows and illuminating her face, Mark found himself completely entranced by her gaze. Her eyes were a blue gray, the irises streaked with varying shades of color. They held all of her secrets and all of her thoughts, and he found it incredibly hard to not get lost in them. 

“Morning,” she murmured, a smile playing on her lips and causing her dimples to peek out. “Sleep alright?”

“Better than I have in a while, admittedly,” he replied, giving her a self-satisfied smirk.

“Must've been all the shagging,” she said with a wink. 

Mark laughed and leaned forward to place a kiss against her mouth. Bridget suddenly pulled away, a look of panic on her face. 

“Bridget, what's wrong?” he asked, concern marring his handsome features. 

She put a palm up to her mouth, muffling her words. “Morning breath,” she muttered, her eyes wide over the top of her hand.

Mark laughed and gently pulled her hand away from her mouth. “I don’t care about that,” he said softly, leaning in and placing a kiss against Bridget’s mouth. At first, she tensed, but Mark persisted, his mouth pressing against hers, pecking soft kisses against her lips. Finally, Bridget kissed him back, her mouth equally as gentle against his. He could feel her smiling against his mouth, and he smiled back, their teeth clashing as they both fought to suppress the grins spreading across their faces. It finally became too much, too overwhelming--they both started laughing, clearly giddy with the thought that after months of giving each other icy looks across rooms and awkwardly stealing glances when the other wasn’t looking, they were now tangled up in Bridget’s bedclothes, completely naked, and giving each other the kind of kiss you would give someone you’d been with for years.

Mark cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb gently running over her high cheekbone. He felt her almost imperceptibly lean into his touch as she brought her own hand up to lay it over his. “You’re something else, you know that?” he said, giving her a smirk that highlighted his dimple in an absolutely delicious way. 

“Let’s not forget who walked across London in the snow for a kiss,” Bridget teased back, her eyes glittering mischievously. Mark gave a hum of defeat, falling back onto his pillow and grinning up at her.

“Guilty.”

Bridget came down to his level and kissed him gently again on the lips. She then nuzzled herself into the crook of his neck, draping an arm across his torso. Mark placed gentle kisses amongst Bridget's hair, trying to memorize the scent of her shampoo and the feeling of the strands against his cheek. Bridget was lazily drawing circles on his bare chest with her fingernails, lulling him into a stupor that caused him to tighten his grip around her back. He could feel her breath rolling across his chest, a whisper of comfort against his skin. Her lips laid against his pectoral muscle, lingering against the skin and causing his body to cover in goose flesh. 

As Mark absentmindedly ran his thumb along the softness of her arm, Bridget murmured into the sparse patch of hair on his chest. “Doesn't a croissant sound amazing right about now?” 

Mark guffawed as he was wrenched out of his reverie. He had been daydreaming about how wonderfully warm and satiated he felt with Bridget in his arms, and all the meanwhile, she had been dreaming about chocolate croissants. He smiled in spite of the situation. “Amazing is a strong word, but I wouldn't be opposed.” 

Bridget pushed up against him and said, “I can work with that.” Her eyes sparkled in the early morning light and she had a smirk on her lips. “I'll give you twenty minutes to get ready, and then we're getting croissants.” She leaned down and planted a forceful, wet kiss against his lips, holding it there until Mark felt her tongue dart out and begin to explore his mouth. 

Clearly, morning breath was no longer a concern. 

He returned the kiss with equal fervor, bringing his hands up to hold her shoulder blades in his palms. An illicit groan escaped from him, and he could feel himself growing hard underneath the sheets. 

Breathlessly, Bridget pulled away and grinned at him. It was obvious that she could feel his erection against her thigh, and she gestured towards it with a nod. “There'll be plenty of time for that later.  _ After  _ croissants.”

Trying to mask his disappointment, Mark cleared his throat and replied, “Duly noted. Croissants it is.” Bridget peppered his face with kisses as she cradled his jaw in between her hands. 

“I am  _ so _ glad you came back from America.”

Mark contemplated the situation at hand--a beautiful woman in bed with him, a warmth in his heart that he hadn't felt in years, and the lingering moisture from an assault of kisses that he didn't want to end. America would have left him with a cold hotel room and a bottle of scotch. 

“I am too. More than you know.”

Bridget kissed him once more on the lips, her hands still cupping his jawline. Mark let his gaze linger on her face as she pulled away and he felt his features go soft with admiration. She gave him a small smile, then dropped her hands to his chest and pushed herself back.

“Twenty minutes. I’ll be in the shower...I’m assuming you know where it is.” 

Bridget gave him a wink and then got out of bed, unabashedly naked and glorious in the morning light. Running her fingers through her sleep tangled hair, Bridget sashayed her way out of the bedroom, shooting Mark a lingering look over her shoulder before she disappeared around the door frame.

Mark was out of the bed quicker than he could say, “Chocolate croissant.” 


End file.
